


blood runs truer than oaths

by angelsaves



Category: Original Work
Genre: Clandestine "we shouldn't be doing this" sex, F/M, Kneeling, Possessive Sex, Sibling Incest, sex to conceive an heir
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:58:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22996546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelsaves/pseuds/angelsaves
Summary: Queen Radegonde, fresh from her coronation, owes her throne to the brilliance of her brother, Lord Childeric. No one can stop them now.
Relationships: Queen Sister/Brother Who Put Her On The Throne
Comments: 6
Kudos: 66
Collections: Smut 4 Smut 2020





	blood runs truer than oaths

**Author's Note:**

  * For [arbitrarily](https://archiveofourown.org/users/arbitrarily/gifts).



> Title from A Song of Ice and Fire; betaed by the delightful [ba_lailah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ba_lailah)

Queen Radegonde seats herself at her dressing table, having stripped out of her gown to a fine linen shift, and allows her maid to take down and brush her hair. It's been piled atop her head for several hours, befitting the queen regnant at her own coronation, and it is a great relief to let it fall in loose waves around her shoulders in preparation for sleep.

The door to her chamber creaks open, and the maid startles, dropping the hairbrush. "My lord!" Anna sounds reproving. "You mustn't —"

"Leave us, if you would," says Childeric. "I wish to speak with my sister alone." He catches Radegonde's eye in the mirror, and she feels the heat of his gaze like a touch, curling warm and filthy around her heart.

"Go ahead," Radegonde says gently. "I can finish readying myself for bed."

"Your majesty," says the maid, giving a quick curtsey, and she leaves the two of them alone.

Radegonde picks up the brush Anna had abandoned and smooths it through her hair, for the sake of busying her hands. "So," she says. "Your plan was a success." She doesn't know the full extent of Childeric's machinations, not truly; only that he had spent the months since her husband's death closeted with a succession of advisors and priests and nobles, arguing that it was surely the will of the gods for Radegonde, not her brother-in-law Odovacar, to assume the throne.

"It was," Childeric agrees. "Your majesty." He bows low, not without irony.

Radegonde makes an impatient gesture. "Oh, don't."

"Why not?" His eyes, when he lifts them, are dark and fathomless. "After all the work I did to convince them that as you and Fredegar were one flesh, to deny your right to rule would be an insult to your late husband and his divine forebears, I think I deserve to call you by that title. _Your majesty._ "

"Do you think so?" Radegonde sets the brush down and turns to look at her brother. She intends to appear cool and regal, but she fears she falls short. He has always, always known the way to discomfit her.

Childeric takes a step closer, menacing and dreadfully appealing at once. "I do," he says.

Suddenly, with the difference in their heights magnified by her seated position, Radegonde feels at a disadvantage. She rises, reminding herself that, for all that he is the elder of the two, for all that he put her on the throne she now sits, she and she alone is the queen. "You will address me as I desire, Childeric."

His gaze drops from her eyes to her mouth, then lower still, where her body is barely concealed by sheer fabric. A hot shock of desire surges through her, and she shifts her weight slightly to accommodate it.

"Oh, gods," Childeric says, his voice low and hoarse. " _Radegonde._ " He reaches out for her, taking her by the hips and backing her against the wall, and drops to his knees before her.

"Childeric," Radegonde breathes. "You don't mean to —" But he does mean to; his callused hands ruck up her shift, exposing her, and part her thighs. The dam of propriety that has been holding them back from one another finally breaks.

Her brother licks her, then, and she cannot pretend that she does not desire him; Childeric's mouth is on her, his tongue delving inside, and she knows that he can taste the flavor of her arousal. Her knees go weak at the feeling of it, but his strong hands keep her upright, grasping the backs of her thighs greedily.

" _Childeric_ ," she says again. With one hand, she seeks purchase in the tapestry behind her, gorgeously embroidered with tales of the family she wedded into; with the other, she seeks it in the dark, grey-salted locks of her brother's hair, forcing him to redouble his efforts. He laves and sucks and nibbles until Radegonde nearly bites through her lower lip with the pleasure of it. They can't — they shouldn't — if the maid hears —

Then he stops, pulling back from her, his neat beard gleaming wet. "No," he says thoughtfully, "not like that." Before she can protest the loss of his mouth, he rises from the floor, undoes his breeches, and pulls out his cock, flushed dark and straining. "Like this." He braces one hand next to Radegonde's head and fits the head of his cock to her entrance with the other.

"Yes," Radegonde says, desperate. He thrusts inside, and she muffles her cry in the juncture of his neck and shoulder.

"Just like this," Childeric continues. "I could put an heir in you, your majesty. Would that please you?"

" _Oh._ " Radegonde wraps her legs around Childeric's hips, letting him take her weight as she takes him deeper still. "What — what would —"

"We'd tell them he was sired by a god, of course." He winds her golden hair around his hand to bare her throat and kisses her there, open-mouthed, with a sting of teeth, pounding her back against the wall with the force of his passion. "It would only strengthen your claim to the throne."

"Have you — ah, gods! Have you planned it so?" Radegonde demands breathlessly. "To get your blood on the throne?"

"Tell me you would have it otherwise, and I will leave you be," Childeric says into the shell of her ear. "Say it, sister."

It would be a lie. She clenches around him, overcome by the thought of bearing her brother's child, knowing that is answer enough for him. Her climax pours through her like a storm-flooded river, and she muffles her cries with the back of her own hand.

His smile is palpable against her skin. He thrusts again, hard, a handful of times, and spends inside of her with a groan.

"Gods, oh, gods —" Childeric draws his cock out of her, but he shoves three fingers inside in their place, and she can feel herself fluttering around them, over-sensitive and yet hungering for more, for all he will give her.

"Radegonde," he says, like a benediction. "You are mine."

She catches her breath and moves the hand she'd left buried in his hair to his throat, wrapping her fingers around it, just tight enough to be felt. "And you," Radegonde says, "are mine."

"Yes." Childeric captures her mouth in a kiss. Radegonde can feel his pulse beneath her hand, strong and rapid, and at last, she truly feels like a queen.


End file.
